[Southern Arcana 3.0] Deadlock (10 page)

A long chase, then, full of feints and strategy. It pleased her, even though it meant she’d end up spending the rest of the night alone and aching. “I’m going back to bed,” she whispered. “Not that hungry, after all. But I’ll cook breakfast in the morning.”

He straightened abruptly and took a step back. “Your brother had your roommate pack a bag for you. It’s by the front door. I got the feeling he’d be back for breakfast, so you might want to plan for that.”

“Consider me warned.” It was easier than she expected to move. The wild
something
simmering inside her had come to a conclusion, and Carmen had no choice but to reasonably agree.

If they wanted Alec, it would take time.

Chapter Six

Alec only realized he’d finally fallen asleep when the smell of breakfast cooking woke him.

The blurry numbers on the clock next to his bed told him it was six in the fucking morning, barely past dawn. Too early to crawl out of bed, but he couldn’t leave Carmen in the kitchen. Literally couldn’t, not with instinct riding him, demanding he check to make sure she was safe.

He jerked open drawers until he found fresh clothes. He got into the jeans and pulled on the T-shirt as he walked down the hall toward the kitchen, where he found Carmen standing in front of the open refrigerator, two eggs in one hand.

She looked up and smiled, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “Scrambled, fried or other?”

Her little spaghetti-strap top bared miles of skin that made it hard to focus on the question. “Eggs? Cooked.”

“Obviously. Salmonella isn’t pretty.” She ducked back into the fridge and came up with a jar of salsa and an onion. “How about something vaguely resembling an omelet?”

The faintest twinge of embarrassment struck without warning. He should have asked Jackson to bring him groceries, something to put in the fucking fridge that made it look like he actually lived in the place. “Sounds good, but you don’t have to cook. I can—”
What? Grill steaks at six in the morning?

She ignored him in favor of stacking things in her arms. “I told you last night I’d make breakfast.”

Which just went to show how badly she’d scrambled his brain. “You must be starving. I’ll make sure we have some decent food here later.”

Carmen only laughed. “You only say that because you don’t know what I can do with a skillet. Sit and watch.”

She seemed in her element, so Alec obeyed with an amused smile, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. “So you’re a doctor, a psychic,
and
you can cook.”

“Running down the list of things you know about me?”

If she had any idea just how much he knew about her, she’d go for the closest weapon. “Just noting that you’re multitalented.”

“I can also roller skate.” She nudged the frying bacon with a spatula and began to peel and slice the onion. “I’m a Leo, and no one’s ever beaten me at five-card draw. What about you? All I know is that you were in the army with Franklin, and you apparently have a thing for damsels in distress.”

The damn woman was flirting with him.

He liked it.

They were so far past screwed that he gave in and laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. Or you could say I have a thing for trouble, because you’re sure as hell that, sweetheart.”

“Me? I’m harmless. At least…” Her smile faded a little. “Until I start howling at the moon, I guess.”

He moved before he realized it, making it halfway across the kitchen before pulling himself up short. His fingers itched with the need to touch her, soft or soothing or anything that would head off the fear gathering inside her. “It’ll be all right. Either way, it will.”

She went rigid. “I’m making breakfast. I don’t feel that different. If I’d changed that much, would I be this calm already? It doesn’t make sense.”

It had always been different for everyone…but he’d never felt feral power curled inside someone when the change hadn’t taken. “Not a lot of it makes sense, but your brother’s going to find out what happened and then Jackson will figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay.” Her hand trembled, and she set the knife on the cutting board. “Salsa in the omelets and bacon on the side. How does that sound?”

Her fear sliced at his nerves. Stepping up behind her, he slid one arm around her waist and pressed his lips to her hair. “Sounds perfect.”

Carmen shuddered and gripped his arm, her nails digging into his skin. “You may be a masochist, but I’m not. If I’m not allowed to climb you, then you shouldn’t hold me like this.”

A dangerous line to walk. He had to be strong enough to reassure the beast inside her without being forceful enough to terrify the woman. “Is that what your instincts are telling you to do? Fuck me?”

She stomped on his foot, which would have hurt if she’d been wearing shoes. “Maybe it has nothing to do with instinct. Maybe I just want to fuck you.”

Instinct or not, his dick hardened at the words, and he slid his hand up to curl in her hair, fisting his fingers in the disheveled strands just hard enough to let her feel it. “You telling me this isn’t the magic? That a sweet little empath like you wants to get rough before she gets down and dirty?”

Her back arched. The movement rubbed her ass against him—and pulled her hair even more. Carmen hissed in a breath. “Is that what’s tripping you up? Wolves aren’t the only ones who like it hard.”

Sweet Jesus.

Alec steeled his voice, made it a command wreathed in a growl. “You can fuck us both into next month with whips and chains, if that gets you hot. After I know you’re the only one driving.”

She growled right back. “Then why are you still
on
me?”

Because he couldn’t stop himself. Alec swore and released her abruptly, reeling back until he bumped into the counter behind him. “Better?”

“No.” The bacon had started to smoke. She moved the skillet off the eye and turned to him, her jaw set in anger. “If you don’t want me getting turned on or thinking about sex, don’t put your arms around me and talk about magic and rough, dirty fucking.”

Alec closed his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it. Things sure do seem to spiral into depravity when we start talking.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

Maybe she shouldn’t. Except she could sprout fur in the next moment and tear up a crowded New Orleans street. “Franklin could keep an eye on you. Or your brother. Or I’ll sit over here and talk about the weather while you make eggs.”

After a moment, she retrieved an egg and cracked it into a bowl. “If you value your virtue,” she warned, but a little of the sparkle had returned to her eyes.

That’s it. Nice and easy.
“Awful warm for April, lately.”

“You don’t actually have to limit yourself to discussions of seasonal temperatures, Alec.”

He cast about for another safe topic. “Do you like working with Franklin?”

“Very much.” She lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I believe in what he’s doing. People should always have a safe place.”

“I agree. I keep hoping that’s what we can make New Orleans, but so far no one has the power to keep all the potential threats at bay.”

Carmen tilted her head and studied him. “Franklin said the Southeast council doesn’t have much to do with things here.”

Interesting that her information came from Franklin even though her uncle was on the damn council. “Not usually, but that doesn’t mean they’re not quick enough to step in if they feel like it.”

“And you resent that.” It wasn’t a question, and he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with how easily she’d fallen into reading him. Not that he wasn’t used to it—Kat usually didn’t even realize she was picking up stray emotions and asking too-pointed questions—but it was different when those questions came from a wide-eyed kid.

There was nothing wide-eyed or kid-like about the woman standing in his kitchen, and her understanding tread dangerously close to intimacy. It made it hard to keep his voice level, caught as he was between the urge to claim and the urge to run like hell. “I guess.”

“I don’t blame you.” She fell silent, focusing on the task at hand.

The urge to screw was nothing new. He liked sex and didn’t see any need to go without when plenty of women were willing to take him home. Casual fucking with no messy complications and no one to be left at home, cranky that he was too damn busy to give a woman the attention she deserved.

No one to make breakfast out of the dismal wasteland of his abandoned fridge.

“There we go. Just like…that,” Carmen murmured as she prodded the eggs. She lifted them as she tilted the pan, and a triumphant smile curved her lips. “This is going to be the perfect omelet.”

It had been a depressingly long time since he’d had a home-cooked breakfast, perfect or not. “Even though you made it with salsa?”

“Are you kidding? I make them with salsa all the time. It’s already seasoned, and it beats the hell out of chopping a bunch of tomatoes.” She folded the omelet and slid it onto a plate, then added a few slices of bacon and a fork. “Here. Eat.”

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” Not that he had any intention of disobeying. It smelled damn good, and he was always hungry.

She laughed and cracked another egg. “I’m assertive. You’re bossy.”

“Yeah, women always have a different word for everything. You remind and we nag.”

“Hmm, you must have me confused with someone else. I definitely nag.”

He might even put up with it from her. “Good to know.”

She eyed his untouched plate. “If you want to do something, you could make coffee. I couldn’t find it.”

“Because I’m probably out again.” But he rose and circled the counter, easing past her without touching her, as tempting as it was to rub against her back.

This time, she didn’t lean into him, and she didn’t pull away. “I could have asked Julio to bring some.”

“I’ll add it to the grocery list.” He dragged open the cupboard and dug around, past enough canned soup to make him wonder where it had all come from, and finally found a shiny, vacuum-packed block. “Here, this is coffee…I think.”

She whistled. “Your tastes are a little more expensive than mine.”

Alec laughed and headed for the coffee pot. “Not my taste. Nicole Peyton. She likes to buy everyone Christmas presents.”

“Right, you hang out with the Alpha’s daughter.”

His arm brushed hers as he reached for the filters, and he tensed, waiting for her reaction. But she only straightened his sleeve carefully and handed him the package of filters.

A sweet gesture. A tiny intimacy.

He wanted to tear off her clothes and bend her over the counter.

Jesus Christ, get your head in the game.
She was an empath. A magic-riddled empath who would
let
him bend her over the counter if he wanted it badly enough, regardless of her own desires.

He couldn’t drag in a deep breath, not with her standing there smelling sweeter than sunshine, but he managed a shallow one and a gruff “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

An engine rumbled outside, unfamiliar and well tuned, and tension shot through him before he remembered that her brother was returning for breakfast. “Think your brother’s back.”

She exhaled shakily. “He’s got great timing, as usual.”

More than one way to interpret that. Alec chose the innocent one. “Always shows up when there’s food around?”

“Something like that.” Carmen ran her hands through her hair, leaving it even more tousled than before. “I’m not looking forward to this.”

Neither was he. He wanted to tell her to put another shirt on—one that covered all that gorgeous damn skin—but it felt too much like admitting he couldn’t control his own reactions. “I’ll deal with your brother. You’re okay, honey.”

“Quit babying me. I’m not going to fall apart.” She grabbed a dishtowel and swatted him lightly.

Catching the towel was instinct. Jerking it hard enough to send her stumbling against him was outright insanity. “Maybe I’m going to fall apart,” he murmured. “Be nice.”

Something dark and hungry flashed in her eyes. “You’re impossible.” Not exasperated condemnation, but a soft, almost wondering confusion.

A car door slammed outside, and Alec cursed life and fate and the wolf who’d be bounding up the steps any second. Curling both hands around Carmen’s shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. A gentle, soothing touch, and all he’d allow himself before he stepped back. “I’ll answer the door.”

The mental and emotional whiplash was going to kill her.

Carmen hurriedly finished cooking the second omelet and started a third, using the rote task to focus her mind. Her skin still tingled where Alec had touched her, and she whispered a few blistering curses.

“That bad, huh?”

Julio.
Something inside her eased, a tiny part of her that had been convinced her brothers had been under attack, as well. “You have no idea.”

He stepped away from the door and met her halfway across the kitchen with open arms and a sigh of relief. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Gives me something to do.” Even as she pulled free of his hug, she was looking him over, making sure he was unhurt. “Are you all right?”

“Only you would ask me something like that at a time like this, Carmen.”

“I’m taking care of her.” Alec sounded a little defensive.

Julio didn’t react visibly, but Carmen felt the spike of disappointed anger that lurked behind his smile. “Yeah, I know.”

She probably smelled like Alec, and Julio’s first ridiculous assumption would be that she’d been taken advantage of. “Sit down, Julio. I made you an omelet.”

“Carmen—”

“Sit.” She moved without thinking, putting herself between her brother and Alec.

He didn’t argue further, probably because he was afraid she’d take the plate away. “You got the stuff I left, I guess.”

“Yes, thank you.” She bumped into Alec, and she had to stop herself from twining her fingers with his. Further proof she’d gone insane—he’d spent the last twelve hours confusing the hell out of her, and she still wanted to hold his hand.

Alec shifted his weight, and his fingertips brushed her lower back in a barely-there touch as he addressed Julio. “Did you find anything out about what they did to her? Or the witch who did it?”